Unknown Roads
by The Musical Jedi
Summary: AU. Qui-Gon's Master dies and he's left to pick up the pieces of his life and his training. FINE
1. Default Chapter

Another one of my stories formatted for theforce.net boards. I hope you don't mind. :) I'm actually currently working on one with longer, legitimate chapters to put here, but being a college student, it's always easier said than done.   
  
Anyhow, the same things apply as to my other stories. I make no money on this. I am merely a poor college student who does this for her own entertainment. Heck, for the creative writing class I took, I couldn't use Star Wars material because it wasn't original. Don't sue, for I have nothing to take. Thanks, George, for your great world.   
  
Now, without further ado...   
  
**Unknown Roads**   
_Infection_   
  
Blood.   
  
The IV hung from its rack, swinging slightly as though a breeze had broken into the small bedroom. The thin, red tube ran its way from the small bag into an older man's arm as he lay inert on the sleep-couch. His skin was an unhealthy yellow, indicating the jaundice brought by his failing liver. A medical technician stood to the side of the sleep-couch, taking notes of his heart beat and shallow breathing. He heaved a quiet sigh that echoed in the silent room and wrote something on the clipboard. Then, the medical technician left the room.   
  
Qui-Gon Jinn looked up from the couch as the technician passed by, paying little attention to him. He was supposed to be in class, except he'd been exempted from them for the day, although the padawan had his suspicions that it would be longer than just today. That was the third technician he'd seen in and out of his master's room, and even without the Living Force screaming in his head or the distressing silence in his training bond, he knew his master was dying.   
  
However, it wasn't as though he could claim astonishment at the situation. Riley Giovan had been sick for a long time, at least three years. For a long time during that sickly period, Qui-Gon hadn't noticed much of a difference between the vivacious and energetic man he'd come to know as his master. The treatments for what the infirmary staff had declared a bacterial infection didn't slow down Riley, and Qui-Gon's training had continued as normal.   
  
Then, about four months ago, the padawan had discovered a marked difference. The infection had gotten worse, and whatever treatments his master was receiving had mysteriously ceased to work. Master Giovan was no longer able to keep up with his twenty-year-old padawan. Instead of going on missions or engaging in other more traditional methods of training, it had become part of Qui-Gon's duties as padawan to care for his master.   
  
Tears beaded in Qui-Gon's eyes at that thought, though he blinked them away. None of the other padawans understood what it was like to be in his situation. He was simply the one whose master was sick. When he'd arrived at the rooms he shared with Riley, he had known something was wrong. Master Yoda was there, and a medical bed had been placed alongside Master Giovan's regular sleep-couch, with him unmoving in it. "In a coma, your master is," Yoda had informed him, his small features painfully blank and his ears flat and unmoving.   
  
The rest of the night before was a blur of disbelief and people, other Jedi filling the small rooms as though their mere presence could make up for the missing company of Qui-Gon's beloved master. Yoda had also informed him that he would not be expected to show up at his classes the next day. When Qui-Gon had finally given up and gone to bed, he laid awake for hours, and when he did sleep, it was fitful and shallow.   
  
Qui-Gon huddled down on the couch and curled up, watching the door with half-closed eyes. He was more tired than he could remember being in a long time, but sleep simply wouldn't come. The padawan's mind raced through a thousand scenarios. What if his master remained catatonic? What if he died? Would Qui-Gon be assigned to a new master? Would he be forced into the trials? What if his master recovered but was permanently disabled somehow? Qui-Gon drew a long breath and tried to release the questions into the Force. He closed his eyes and simply tried not to think, not to feel, any more. 


	2. Empty Shell

_Empty Shell_   
  
"Qui-Gon? Wake up," said a soft alto voice. The padawan drifted from sleep, feeling his shoulder being shaken by hand presumably belonging to the mysterious voice.   
  
"Leave me alone," Qui-Gon replied quietly, trying to roll over on the couch without falling off. He blinked his eyes, momentarily confused by the darkness surrounding him. "What time is it?" he asked, the sleep fading away with the realization he must have been slumbering for some time. The padawan sat up and rubbed his eyes.   
  
The medical assistant sat back on her heels and waited a moment for Qui-Gon to finish waking up. "It's about two in the morning," she replied. The padawan looked at her and it occurred to him that something was wrong. He hadn't seen a single member of the medical staff in his rooms past around eight o'clock. The shock must have registered on her face, because she put a hand on his knee and looked into his eyes before telling him, "Qui-Gon, your master has died. The bacterial infection finally overpowered him. Do you want to say one last good-bye to him?"   
  
The world turned sickeningly for a moment, then Qui-Gon stood up slowly. "Riley," he whispered, stumbling into his master's bedroom. He approached the medical bed, so incongruous in his room, his master's room. Riley's face was smooth, and it looked to the padawan that he was asleep, except for the yellow tint of the skin and the way he was completely still. Qui-Gon suddenly felt foolish, though. This was nothing to say good-bye to, nothing but an empty shell of the man who used to be his master. He shook his head and turned away.   
  
The medical assistant was standing at the door, looking obviously unsure of what to do. Qui-Gon brushed past her back into the main room, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. It took a moment for the assistant to realize he was crying, or at the very least, his shoulders were shaking. She walked over and sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.   
  
"I don't understand," the padawan said, drawing a shuddering breath. "I don't know why it happened, or what's supposed to happen to me now. I'll probably be yanked from here and shoved with someone else. I don't want someone else."   
  
"I know it looks bleak now," the medical assistant told him, "but the Force has a reason for this, if we can find the understanding in it. The Council may not move you or suggest you're paired with another master. You just have to wait, for now."   
  
Qui-Gon shook his head, and she saw tears glistening on his cheeks. "I don't understand; this is all I've known, all I've wanted." He gave an odd half-sob, half-laugh which was a heart-wrenching sound. "I don't even know who you are, and I'm pouring my heart out to you."   
  
She smiled slightly. "I'm Avi Maralday, an assistant for the infirmary. As for listening, that's part of what I'm here for. Listen, why don't you try to get some sleep? Tomorrow will be another long day. The Council will want to see you, and there will probably be a ceremony for your master's funeral pyre. You will need the rest and the strength."   
  
Qui-Gon wondered at his ability to do something as mundane as sleep, but he knew her suggestion made sense. "You're right," he said in resignation, "I think I will try to get some sleep."   
  
She nodded and turned to leave. "I'll probably be in the infirmary if you need anything," she offered, although it sounded rather futile and hollow. He nodded, and she disappeared out the door. Then, the masterless padawan trudged to his room and curled up on his sleep-couch, silent tears making tracks on his face as his eyes looked towards the empty room, unblinking.   
  
***   
  
He stared at his wall for a long time, seeing nothing except the memories within his own mind. Qui-Gon also heard the quiet shuffle of feet beyond his door as well, but he knew the others were there to collect Riley's body and prepare it for his funeral rites. He couldn't muster the energy to leave his small room or face the people taking away his master. Instead, he remained huddled beneath his blankets, soaking in the warmth that did nothing to touch the profound feeling of hollowness, of being alone, within him.   
  
Qui-Gon awoke the next morning without the memory of falling asleep. His cropped, dark brown hair was tousled and his tunics wrinkled and out of place. Oddly, he felt devoid of feeling. He walked out into the kitchen area, sitting in one of the chairs that surrounded the table. He didn't know what to think, even though his thoughts raced without much order.   
  
The loneliness was pervasive. The rooms he'd shared with his master for the last six years were too quiet for his comfort; Riley would fill them with idle humming or simply the noise of existence. The silence amplified itself a thousand times over until it weighed as heavily as the blankets that had hidden him the night before. The feeling of the quietness was estranging. Granted that Qui-Gon had never been an overly extroverted initiate, he could almost sense the changes that cloaked him. A permanent rift had formed between him and the other padawans his age. While they continued to grow and flourish beneath the careful eyes of their masters, Qui-Gon had been set adrift with nothing to guide him but remote Jedi and his own memories. It would be difficult to put words to, if Qui-Gon could ever find the strength to say them.   
  
He also felt as if his trust had been shattered. Trust was crucial to the Master-Padawan bond, and even his master's death was obviously not Riley's fault, Qui-Gon still felt a little betrayed. Despite the countless dangerous missions he'd been sent on with his master, death had always seemed like something not quite real to the padawan. He had been taught that it was something not to fear but to embrace, but it was still a concept that he'd never faced head on. Now, death was all too real to him, pointedly so by the empty room across the hall.   
  
The promise of a Master-Padawan bond was also one that whispered upon forming a bond, the implied "I'll always be there for you until you have to take the Trials by yourself." Instead, this order had been broken. Master Riley Giovan was gone, one with the Force, and Qui-Gon was still there. More than his master's actual death, the padawan regretted what would never be. He regretted the fact his master could never congratulate him on passing his Trials or watch as Qui-Gon selected and trained his own padawan. He wouldn't be there to smile proudly if Qui-Gon was appointed to the Council or comfort him at the passing over of such an honor. Simply, he wouldn't be there.   
  
No matter what, Qui-Gon realized he would have to be ultra-aware. He doubted that the Council would find him another master. The padawan was simply too old for that, and it would make little sense given that he would be raised to Knighthood in the not-too-distant future. Instead, he would have to fill in the gaps of his knowledge by watching the others around him, seeing what the Knights and Masters did, monitoring what worked and what did not. What would been intrinsic knowledge to other padawans, Qui-Gon would have to learn through hard work and close examination. However, there was no doubt that his training would be somewhat crippled by this. It would affect his future. The rest of his life. 


	3. Chosen

_Chosen_   
  
A chime rang, informing Qui-Gon of a visitor at his door. He pulled himself from the tangle of blankets on his sleep-couch and walked slowly to the door. Opening it, he found a younger initiate staring up at him in surprise. The younger girl must not have been any older than ten. Qui-Gon gave a rueful grin, knowing his tunic and leggings were out of place and his traditional ponytail must not have been any neater. "Can I help you?" he asked the smaller girl, who still looked at him with wide, green eyes.   
  
She started out of her reverie and glanced down at the data pad in her hands. "Are you Qui-Gon Jinn?" she asked, reading the information from the pad. The girl looked at him with embarrassment. "If I had known you were still in bed, I wouldn't have disturbed you," she added.   
  
"I am he," Qui-Gon replied, surprised by her last statement. He glanced back in his rooms to check a chronometer. It was almost time for the midday meal, which meant he'd sleep much later than he normally did. He stretched his tall frame like a cat, suddenly feeling stiff and cramped. The girl shied away, her smaller frame looking like a shadow to his taller form and longer limbs. Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder if she was even ten; she didn't move with the fluid grace of a strong warrior. Even for his long, cumbersome limbs, he had a natural grace that surpassed even some of the masters. He just hoped someday he would grow into those limbs.   
  
"The Council has a summons for you," she said, handing him the data pad. "They would like to see you this evening." She continued to eye him, much to Qui-Gon's amusement. Finally, she seemed to work up the courage to ask him what was bothering her. "Does your master always let you sleep that late? My teachers would be furious if I were in bed that long!"   
  
Qui-Gon gave her a faint, sad smile at that. "No, my master doesn't usually let me sleep that long," he replied, taking the pad from her and not bothering to correct her. The alienation, however unintentional, had already begun. "How old are you?"   
  
"I'm seven years old," the girl replied. "I can't wait to be old enough to be considered for being a padawan. But I don't fight well enough yet, or have good control over the Force. I'm afraid I won't be chosen before I turn thirteen." Her green eyes shone with hope that touched Qui-Gon. He remembered being afraid of being turned away from the Temple. For as long as he could remember, he'd been wholly dedicated to becoming a Jedi. Riley had chosen him at the age of eleven, long before he had to worry about being turned away. The memory hurt.   
  
He smiled kindly at the younger girl. "I'm sure you will learn to fight well and have control. Such things take time, but if you have the dedication, they will be mastered." She gave him a thankful look for the reassurance. "I'm sure you have other duties besides talking to me, though," he added.   
  
She nodded quickly then gave a swift bow. "The Council will be angry if I don't return to run more errands," she agreed. "It was nice to talk with you, although I woke you up." She turned to walk down the hall.   
  
"It was nice to speak with you as well," Qui-Gon replied. He watched her disappear, more painful memories clouding his thoughts.   
  
***   
  
_ "Qui-Gon Jinn, will you be my padawan?" The average-height man looked at him, his dark brown eyes kindly. "I would be honored if you would have me as your master." His smile was gentle and reassuring. Qui-Gon beamed at the invitation as he pulled off his damp tunic. He had seen Master Giovan before, working with the very young initiates. He'd worked with Qui-Gon as well, many years ago with the first and simplest Force exercises.   
  
"I would love to be your padawan," Qui-Gon replied. He was physically exhausted, having just finished a spar for one of the competitions in the Temple. Although the thought was always in his mind at such functions, Qui-Gon didn't think that he would be chosen as someone's padawan for at least another year. "I have a question, though, Master Giovan."   
  
Riley watched as the boy pulled on a clean tunic and wiped nonexistent sweat from his face. "I will try to answer it for you, Qui-Gon, though I can't promise I can." The boy had dark brown hair and intelligent gray-blue eyes that were currently shining as bright as his lightsaber blade. He always answered that way, as if he were afraid to say something definitively only to find out later he had inadvertently lied.   
  
"Why did you pick me? There are many others who are older than I am."   
  
"I picked you because the Force seems to be leading me in that direction. You are intelligent and graceful, Qui-Gon, an excellent fighter for your age. That is a good thing for our pairing, since sparring has never been my strong suit. There is little you need to learn and little I could teach you about that. However, you are impulsive and strong-willed, am I right?" Riley smiled slightly as Qui-Gon shifted nervously at that. "I know that you have broken rules when you think it is necessary. I can teach you how to use the rules to your advantage, as well as know when it is truly time to break them. I can teach you how to trust another being when you need to and learn from you mistakes. I can also teach you how to lose gracefully. Sometimes when you lose, padawan, you win." He winked broadly at Qui-Gon. "You will go far, my padawan, and train a great man to be a Jedi Master, if you learn what I will teach you. You are intelligent and brave, Qui-Gon Jinn." Those seemed odd words, but Master Giovan had the talent of seeing through the haze of the future, seeing what the Force choose to reveal to him from the possibilities.   
  
He had felt completely pleased at his master's words. Riley wanted to teach him of the Force, as well as himself. Qui-Gon knew that their bond would hold firm forever, even if they had disagreements or difficulties. He was Riley Giovan's padawan, even if not officially. He had been chosen._   
  
Forever.   
  
Qui-Gon sat outside of the Council chamber waiting to be called in. The memory of being chosen had been replaying itself over and over for some time now, and he couldn't help but feel like the world 'forever' was painfully hollow. Either that, or it didn't mean what Qui-Gon once thought it did. Forever seemed to have come and gone, and Qui-Gon was still here without master or bond. The thought tore at him, and he let the pain wash over him and flow from him. If he did anything else, the Jedi was afraid it would control him. The emotion was too strong for Qui-Gon to control.   
  
All in all, the day had been disturbingly uneventful. Not sure what he'd been expecting, Qui-Gon had felt certain that there should have been more references to Riley's death. However, the only think that had even remotely alluded to it was the initiate and her questions about what his master allowed him to do. The rest of the world had been rather unaffected by the passing of a Jedi Master. Qui-Gon decided wryly that it would have been more appropriate had lightning struck the Temple or earthquakes shaken it. That would have been a fitting reaction to his death.   
  
A page interrupted his morbid musings by tapping him on the shoulder and indicating that Qui-Gon was allowed to enter the Council room. Pushing the thoughts aside, Qui-Gon stilled his mind and followed the page in, trying not to worry about the future the Council had planned to place before him. 


	4. Summoned

_Summoned_   
  
Qui-Gon stood in the middle of the picturesque room, painfully aware of the masters around him who would determine his destiny momentarily. He'd been there only a few times before, both times with his master. He felt rather alone and unprotected. Bowing respectfully to the assembled group, Qui-Gon waited for one of the Council members to speak, breathing slowly.   
  
"A tragedy has befallen the Temple," Riven ni'Faied said quietly, inclining his head towards Qui-Gon. "It is not often we are presented with such a situation, but it is most certainly tragic when it does." Riven was the head of the Council, an older Wookie with silver fur.   
  
"Too old to be a padawan, you are," Yoda said, his ears quivering, "but not ready to be a Knight."   
  
"The Council has discussed and meditated on your situation," a small, female human said, her name Re'naid Sinantil, "as well as consulted with your teachers." She gave a decisive nod towards the young man in the middle of the room. "You will be excused from your final exams. Your teachers have assured us that you display the knowledge required. Instead, you are to assist a student who has been particularly troublesome. Her master is currently a hostage in the civil war on the planet Ieve. You are to be a mentor of sorts to her."   
  
"See if you are ready for the Trials, your assignment will," Yoda said, looking enigmatic. "Learn important lessons, you will. At least, hope this we do." The small Council member looked amused at his last comment.   
  
"We understand your pain, Qui-Gon Jinn, and we sympathize with you. But you must learn to control your feelings and overcome your circumstances if you are to become a Jedi. You will have the information in a few days," Riven said soothingly. Despite his large size and fearsome appearance, the Jedi Master was quiet and pensive, serene and soothing in his role.   
  
"As the Council deems fit," Qui-Gon responded deferentially, although in an emotionless tone. He bowed his head and, upon receiving permission, left the Council chamber.   
  
***   
  
"Uncertain, you are, about your future and your feelings."   
  
Qui-Gon looked up to see Master Yoda in front of him, leaning on his walking stick. He nodded slowly, knowing he could hide very little from the diminutive Master. "I feel emptied, like I have shed my last tear and am incapable of feeling anything else any more. I shouldn't have been as close to my master as I was. I'm afraid if I leave, I won't be able to bring myself to come back."   
  
Yoda sat down next to him on the bench, absorbing the sound that created the ambiance of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Water flowed with melodic tones, and occasionally the leaves rustled from fan-generated wind. However, the effect was realistic enough. "Regret your bond, you should not. Close to your master you were, and apologize for that you never should."   
  
Qui-Gon shook his head gently. "I feel insufficient for what I'm to become. I thought I could control my emotions, letting them teach me instead of overwhelm me. I feel uncomfortable in the Temple, my home as long as I can remember. There are too many memories here now."   
  
Yoda smiled gently, a rare expression for him. "Listen, you do not. With age, understanding comes. Memories, you will overcome. Grieving, you are. Bad, emotions are not, but painful they can be. Too young to be set loose from your master, you are."   
  
"I'm glad you have confidence in me." Yoda could sense the padawan withdraw into himself, although he didn't know what the younger Jedi was thinking. Qui-Gon's gray-blue eyes became distant as they blurred with unshed tears.   
  
"Proven to me, my confidence is. Anything you can't handle, the Council won't give. Fail you, your training will not. Here is the Council and the other Jedi, if need us you do. A little faith, you must have, all that is," Yoda nodded with certainty. He jumped down from the bench, obviously not needing his gimmer stick. "With you always, the Force is." Then he turned and left Qui-Gon alone, fading quickly into the vegetation.   
  
Qui-Gon sighed as he watched Yoda disappear. He lay down on the bench looking up at the blue sky and the artificial sun, although he didn't really see. The Jedi Master's words still tumbled in his head, making little sense. Yoda usually talked in riddles, unless he simply used his walking stick to make a point.   
  
His words didn't make sense. Yoda said that he shouldn't regret his bond with his master, how close they were. Yet now, the grief from losing him threatened to sweep Qui-Gon away. He was afraid to completely let go of them, for fear they would dominate him until he couldn't take it any more. Qui-Gon Jinn knew, in that deepest place within himself where he could admit such things, he was afraid love, to trust, another person for fear of being betrayed and left alone again. That seemed to be Yoda's message, though; he shouldn't regret what he had, even if it caused him suffering now. Perhaps that was why he had to connect to someone else now.   
  
The padawan could sense that this was part of his training. He was emotionally imbalanced, an uncomfortable situation for someone who was suppose to trust his feelings insofar as to use them to base other judgments upon. But he could only trust those feelings if they were pure and unbiased by other things… such as the death of one's master. This student's master was also lost to her. How was he supposed to help her if he couldn't even help himself?   
  
Yoda said he trusted Qui-Gon's training. That seemed to be the least enigmatic of his statements. Qui-Gon personally agreed with part of that statement; he believed his training would not let him down. The hindrance was not his training but himself. Did he have the discipline and strength to put this behind him to make decisions with a clear and neutral mind? Could he separate himself from his past to be able to take in the Force and not have memories of his master distract him? That's what made it part of his training, to see if he was prepared to submit to his Trials. It was the culmination of everything he was supposed to have learned from the Jedi, the ultimate final. However, the consequence to this wasn't mere failing status, but possibly destroying another person's life. It was enough to be daunting to anyone, let alone a newly orphaned padawan. He had to succeed, for himself, for the student, for the Council, but most of all for his master. Qui-Gon couldn't let Riley Giovan down. 


	5. An Ending

_An Ending_   
  
Qui-Gon watched as the flames licked carefully at the inert form of his master. They had formed a fitting kind of shroud over Riley, folding over him like soft, vibrantly colored blankets, warming his last sleep. Then, the fire would crack and hiss and pop, making evil sounds in the quiet room, restless in the death of a Jedi. The moment would pass, as everything was as it should be again, or as close as it would ever be. Qui-Gon hugged his arms to himself, drawing in his outer robe closer, despite the oppressive heat from the pyre.   
  
The padawan was comfortably numb for the moment. He felt hollowed out, as if he'd shed every last tear in his being, felt every range of betrayal and loss and grief, watched every memory too many times. He wanted with an intense desire he'd never experience before to be able to leave, not to watch as his master's body was returned to its origin. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," he whispered inaudibly to himself. However, he couldn't muster the courage to leave the small room. Qui-Gon understood his master was dead; watching as his body was cremated to have the ashes put to rest in the Honorarium, an eternal flame lit next to an onyx plaque with his name, was merely reaffirmation of what he knew. But the knowledge never touched his heart.   
  
The room was oppressive in its own way. There were heavy scents in the air, the smell of ritual to cover the more acrid scent of the burning of a person. Qui-Gon took a deep breath, feeling the heady perfume seep into his lungs, almost overwhelming. The fire popped, sending a plume of sparks into the air only to drift back again.   
  
_That is what I am,_ Qui-Gon decided. _A drifting point of light, separated from that which I thought would always be there. Lost in a world not to its understanding. Perhaps I can learn, though. Perhaps some day I'll be able to pass my spark of fire to someone else. Perhaps some day I'll live to know my master's regrets, to know I won't be there when I'm needed and longed for, that someone else will hurt because I no longer walk among them._ He shivered slightly at the thought, feeling suddenly cooler in the warm room. _May that never be,_ he decided.   
  
It was such an odd feeling to be so acutely aware of his own mortality. Death had always been something he was aware of, but never really acquainted with. Jedi his master had known had died. Qui-Gon had even been to the ceremony of a padawan who'd died in an accident, a remote associate from his classes. But this wasn't the same. He'd never known the visage of the person upon the pyre in the expression of anything except smooth silence, the quiet of sleep and stillness. Riley's face, however, had rarely been in the expression it now wore. His eyes had always sparkled with amusement or cunning, a deep, encompassing intelligence glowed behind his eyes and in his face, the apparent consideration of all things; a mind that never stopped. Never had his master been this still, not until death had taken his liveliness.   
  
There was no way around it. This was an ending, a good-bye. Qui-Gon felt his heart wrench at that thought, and his numbness was suddenly replaced by a rush of wordless sadness and grief. Although it felt like a dream, he knew he wouldn't wake up. Every time, he would wake up alone, a masterless padawan. He was alone for whatever reason that had been divined for this turn of events. It was the ultimate farewell, the unforeseen, tears-upon-cheeks, one last cry of affection type of good-bye that happened to one person in a million. Qui-Gon was the lucky one, or perhaps the damned one, the one personality who would be shaped by it, finding strength within instead of without, understanding in what made him different from everyone else in his thoughts, perceptions, relations, and everything. The emotion was strong within him, surpassing the limits of communication and even his capacity to fully experience it. Qui-Gon Jinn, padawan of Riley Giovan, hated farewells. 


	6. The Replacement

_The Replacement_   
  
Qui-Gon hadn't truly slept since the night his master died. Something completely encompassing seemed to have taken hold of him, making him somewhat numb. He didn't know exactly what to feel, having felt more emotions in the last few days that he thought he had the capacity to experience. It was a burden that he couldn't carry any more, and some how, he'd given the burden up, at least for a while. Part of him raged, knowing that that was the wrong course of action, but he didn't know what else to do. Perhaps his charge would help him with his demons.   
  
Today was the day he was supposed to meet her. Qui-Gon had been given a data chip on her, but the information upon it was rather sketchy at best. It was proof that there was little information on those that led normal lives within the Temple. His own file must be enormous from the last few days.   
  
The chip had given her a name, Aislinn Kieran, and her master's name was Nevan Shae. She was intelligent according to her class records, as well as adept at saber fighting. She was only three years younger than Qui-Gon. He was uneasy about the assignment, but the Council knew best. Or, if not that, knew better than he did. She had withdrawn from her usual peer group when she found out about her master's captivity about a week and a half ago. She had become increasing unreceptive and antisocial to the point that the Council had stepped in, making Qui-Gon her mentor. Unfortunately, he still felt rather inadequate.   
  
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon settled into the middle of his sitting room, focusing on the Force. He searched the Force for answers on his new friend, although it was irritatingly silent. Whatever he was supposed to accomplish, apparently the journey was part of the task. It was as nebulous as the stars, though. While he was provided coordinates or a map when piloting the skies, this area was unmapped. He was making it up as he went along. So, he simply mentally noted the problem for future reference.   
  
He ventured within himself, still feeling the rolling tide of the Force. This path was thornier, his emotions still very much entangled from the death of his master. He reflected upon the pain and betrayal of his master's death, trying to release the emotion from him into the Force. However, when he tried, he felt as if he were being sheared from the emotion with a knife, and it throbbed and hurt him even more deeply than the emotion himself. _It's too soon,_ Qui-Gon realized, as he bathed the wound with the Force. It soothed the pain, and he silently gave thanks to the Force, seeking guidance into how he could use the pain to make himself better. That was the Jedi way, to use painful experiences for wisdom and understanding of the Force itself.   
  
The chrono in the room chimed, and Qui-Gon ended his meditation. It was time to meet Aislinn.   
  
* * *   
  
He was a little early as he walked into the practice arena. A small crowd of padawans sat in a rough semicircle on the floor, watching two padawans, a male and a female, spar on the mats in front of them as the teacher shouted commentary. The male was perhaps seventeen, only a hair or two shy of two meters, a dusty blond with his braid reaching halfway down his back. He moved with a sure-footed, although somewhat heavy in technique, confidence, parrying the blows the girl dealt. She was around 5.75 meters, rather tall for a girl, with raven hair and a braid even longer than her opponent's. Her face was hard as she fought him, but he scored no hits on her either. She moved much more gracefully and lightly that he did.   
  
"Watch their feet, class. That is key to a good sparring match. If your feet don't move as they ought, then you're probably doomed from the beginning of the match." The teacher was an acquaintance of his, a newly raised Knight by the name of Mace Windu. He showed great promise in the area of diplomacy, and Qui-Gon privately held the view that it was only a matter of time before he was appointed to the Council.   
  
The girl flipped over the boy's head, laying a brutal slash across the back of his knees before he swung all the way around. He rushed her, striking quickly though not without planning. She parried most of the blows but earned a burn in her tunic across the lower part of her rib cage for her pains. "Notice how they are focused. They never break concentration or strike without thinking and planning first," Windu intoned.   
  
The male padawan lunged toward the girl, and she neatly stepped out of range onto to be caught as the move appeared to be a fake. He scored another hit to match his first, but he misstepped, almost tripping. She took advantage of his slip, caused by a wrinkle in the mat. Deactivating her saber, she shoved him with the hilt, causing him to heave backwards, tripping over her planted foot. He was on the floor in a moment, and in even less time, her saber was reactivated and humming near his ear. "Kill point, Aislinn. Well fought, both you and Aidan." He went on to explain the fault in Aidan's step and the cunning in Aislinn's move afterwards.   
  
Aislinn reached down and helped Aidan up, giving him a victorious grin that quickly faded. They shared a few quiet words as Mace continued to speak. Qui-Gon couldn't help but admire her move. It took both quick reflexes and a quicker mind. However, she hadn't caused him unnecessary harm nor humiliation. It was a well-executed plan. He said something to her, and she rubbed her side ruefully, emitting a chuckle that even from his distance, Qui-Gon could see never reached her eyes.   
  
Mace Windu dismissed the class then pulled Aidan and Aislinn aside for a few quick words. They both nodded attentively until they were dismissed. Aidan headed for the showers, Mace disappeared out another door to the arena, and Qui-God was left alone with her. 


	7. No One's Help

_No One's Help_   
  
"You fought very well," Qui-Gon began, walking towards her. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and the Council has asked me to assist you." She stood alone in the middle of the arena watching his approach. She had gone very still at the sight of him, and now, although she looked calm, Qui-Gon could feel slight tension and uneasiness at his advance. As he drew near, he could see her tunic was covered in sweat and small curls had formed around her hairline from the saltwater, framing her deep, gray eyes. They reminded him of a stormy ocean he'd seen on one of missions with Riley.   
  
"So you're the one they've sent to tame me," she said quietly, her voice quiet and melodic. She shook her head, her braid bouncing across her back. "The Council thinks it will all be better if I have someone to watch over me." Her eyes suddenly shifted from stormy waters to harsh stone. Toying with her saber with long fingers, she looked at him as if challenging him to defy what she had said.   
  
"I suspect I won't make things any easier," Qui-Gon replied demurely, "but neither will you make things easier for me." He had to admire her spirit. She didn't seem as unbalanced as he felt, unless it was all a front. However, it was rather presumptuous for him to think he could figure out and understand her within the first minutes of meeting her.   
  
"Make things easier for you? I'm afraid I don't follow." She slowly began walking away from the center, obviously assuming Qui-Gon would follow her. Aislinn clipped her saber to her belt and grabbed one of the towels, wiping the sweat from her neck and face. "I thought this was for my benefit," she snorted contemptuously, "since my master is being held hostage and may never return."   
  
"My master is dead and will never return," Qui-Gon echoed quietly. Aislinn turned around to studying him, her hand pausing as she continued to wipe the damp from herself. They stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up emotionally.   
  
"Then at least we are agreed," Aislinn said finally, turning away to head towards the girls' locker room for a shower. "Neither of us want the other, because you can't be my master, and I can't be yours."   
  
"How optimistic," he replied wryly, but she didn't hear, or perhaps didn't listen, having already gone into the locker room.   
  
With a heavy sigh, he sat on the ground outside the door, waiting for her to reappear. Hating to admit this, Qui-Gon didn't have a very optimistic feeling about this little task. He had the sinking feeling that there was more to this than appeared at first glance. On the data pad, it was simple: help the girl through her rough time and in the process make life easier for the people who had to deal with her. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would benefit from her presence as well.   
  
Still, he couldn't make it that simple where he was, sitting outside the girls' locker room, stinging a little at her cutting commentary. The padawan sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. Obviously, the Council had faith in his abilities, or they wouldn't have chosen him. But Qui-Gon lacked that confidence himself. Perhaps that was what this was all about. He was still a complete person without his master, whether or not his training was complete. And perhaps it was truly complete. It might be true that he only needed confidence.   
  
Still, confidence wasn't something that he could just convince himself he had. Qui-Gon stood up, restlessly stirring about the arena. He itched to understand and being acting already, doing something to prove himself, whether to the Council, to her, to his dead master, or to himself. Inactivity and ignorance frustrated the padawan, even though experience had taught him that the need to do something without enough thought or information beforehand could prove to have perilous results.   
  
Discipline. Always discipline. Calming himself, Qui-Gon Jinn bent down to kneel on the floor. He immersed himself in the Force, drawing on strength and knowledge from the Force, still carefully avoiding the burn of his yet unstable emotions concerning his master.   
  
* * *   
  
"You're still here," Aislinn said, shaking her damp hair and sending water droplets flying. Qui-Gon looked up at the girl towering over him, looking somewhere between bemused and annoyed. "I see patience is something you have picked up in your years as a student here in the Temple." Her voice was twisted with sarcasm, given the fact patience was harped into the students. Patience was learned if nothing else.   
  
"Why should I leave? I'm supposed to be here. Besides, I have nothing else to do," Qui-Gon replied, still trying to remain cool. It was obvious she was trying to goad him, and to his eternal irritation, it was working. "Go back to an empty set of quarters? I think not."   
  
She frowned at the mention of empty quarters. "Well, consider it this way. You haven't lost a master; you've gained a guest room." Aislinn turned to leave, but Qui-Gon stood and caught her shoulder. Whirling quickly, she brushed his hand off and glared at him. Through the Force, Qui-Gon could feel that the gesture was not so much in anger, as it appeared, but pain and torment with no outlet. His frustration began to slip away. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for anyone's help. No one asked me if I really wanted to become a Jedi or have my master taken hostage. No one asked you to sweep in and try to fix everything."   
  
Qui-Gon spread his hands apart disarmingly, although he still stung from her words. "I don't know if I can sweep in and fix everything, Aislinn. That's not why I am here." She shook her head violently and gave him a sharp push. He had to resist the temptation to shove her back.   
  
"Then leave! Don't replace Nevan! Go back to the Council and tell them he is coming back and this is all unnecessary! Go!" She turned quickly, though not before Qui-Gon saw tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. Aislinn hurried ungainly across the arena, somewhere between walking and running. Then she turned the corner and disappeared.   
  
"Kriff!" Qui-Gon yelled in frustration, turning around as he ripped the data pad from its holder on his belt and flung it across the arena as hard as he could. It skittered across the floor and came to rest again the far wall with a sickening crunch and a shower of crystals. He didn't even care he'd destroyed the pad.   
  
Aidan stuck his head out of the locker room and looked around with wide eyes. He saw Qui-Gon and hesitantly stepped out from behind the safety of the door. "Are you all right?" he asked, sharing his attention between the older padawan and the remains of his data pad.   
  
"Oh fine, fine," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh, his sudden outburst leaving only dull frustration. "I'm making quite a little mess of things all by myself." He walked over to the remnants and began gathering them together, thankful that the chip on Aislinn was still intact. He threw everything but the chip away.   
  
"You were talking with Aislinn, weren't you?" Aidan asked, creeping towards Qui-Gon. When he stood, the small padawan shied away as if afraid he'd be struck. "Actually, I already know the answer to that. I could hear you." He chuckled a little uneasily. "She's a blaster, that's for sure."   
  
"You're telling me," Qui-Gon replied flatly.   
  
Aidan's face became serious as he watched the other padawan sigh over the trash can and turn away. "Go easy on her, will you? She doesn't know what to do or how to think about her master. She thinks the Council sent you as a replacement for her master, should he not survive." He shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "She's just hurting."   
  
"I'll try. Do you know where she might have gone?"   
  
"Probably back to her quarters. Or maybe the Room of a Thousand Fountains."   
  
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks and left to locate his charge. No wonder the Council had called her particularly troublesome. But that didn't mean it wasn't justified. Which would be worse, having a master dead or the possibility of him someday coming back? Qui-Gon didn't know. 


	8. Being Strong

_Being Strong_   
  
As it turned out, she was neither in her rooms nor in the Room of a Thousand Waterfalls. It was early evening by the time he found her perched on a large rock situated on the beach beside the lake. Her legs were drawn up and her chin was resting on them as she watched the artificial sunset. Her gray eyes were stormy again, but he thought that this time it was because of thought and meditation. She watched him approach and sit in the sand next to the rock, turning to watch the sunset as well.   
  
It was dark when she finally spoke to him. "Would you believe me if I said I was sorry about this afternoon?" she asked quietly.   
  
"No," Qui-Gon replied, "because it was obvious you meant what you said. However, I would forgive you for it. You are concerned for your master and afraid he will never come back."   
  
Aislinn looked down at him in surprise. He continued not to pay her any attention. "You are right," she said finally, playing with the edge of her tunic. "I hear whispers in the halls when they think I can't hear. He may be killed or kept prisoner for a long time if the rebels don't get what they want."   
  
"But you have hope."   
  
She slid off the rock to stand in front of him. "Hope? Is that what it's called? I'm tired of being strong. I can feel his pain and terror in my mind when they torture him. He gets trussed up and dragged places for a show of strength. He's tried to block it, but it's too powerful. My master is afraid. My master! The man who's supposed to be infallible and unbreakable! I'm supposed to pretend nothing is happening, that it will all be all right. But it won't."   
  
His own heart ached. Qui-Gon wanted to scream at her, to tell her that she had the chance of seeing him again! The pain she felt must be better than the emptiness he found. At least he was there for her and she for him. Riley was gone, never to come back. The best situation in the world still left his name on the plaque and his flame burning merrily next to him, the world's greatest farce. He couldn't take the driving sadness, not now. If he broke down here, he was sure he would drag Aislinn with him. They had to make this work, somehow. "Tell me… Tell me something happy. A memory from before, how he was." His words were halting, delayed by emotion held back, and his tone was upset, the blood of grief on his lips.   
  
A tremor shook Aislinn's body, and then she was kneeling in the sand before him, her head buried in her hands. A choking sob tore from her throat as her torso trembled. Qui-Gon watched helplessly as sorrow overtook her. He reached out and tried to draw her safely in his arms, but she shied away, shifting to lean against the rock. They sat there a long time in silence, her eyes drowned in tears and his heart heavy with anguish for both their losses. It was painfully deep, the outer layer of the knot within himself. He wondered if she felt the same, plagued by memories that would never exist again and empty of memories that could now never be made.   
  
"He… He used to sing to me," she said quietly. Her tears had begun to subside, though her face was still streaked with them. "Nevan would walk around the rooms and sing to fill the space. It's so dreadfully silent now!"   
  
"I understand," Qui-Gon said. "Everything is the same, but somehow not. It's in the silence of a room, or the missing calls to your quarters. More than that, it's the regret of what will never be, what he will miss." _My knighting, He won't be there to witness my Trials or welcome into the order._   
  
"At least you have closure of some kind. I only know pain. You can grieve and eventually move on. I am trapped here, for now." She chafed her arms. He reached out and touched her arm, and this time she didn't turn or run or shout.   
  
"Only for now," Qui-Gon replied, "you will find him again, even if it is in the Force. Evil things cannot last forever."   
  
"So you say," Aislinn said quietly, standing up and beginning to walk away. "So you say." He watched her go, feeling the barriers fall back into place. Qui-Gon only knew more but was no closer to the goal, if it were even possible to name one. She was very much lost and in pain, and he was really no better off himself. 


	9. Arm's Length

_Arm's Length_   
  
It was early morning as Qui-Gon drifted aimlessly around the Temple. He'd traversed nearly all of one spire since Aislinn had disappeared. Even though that was hours ago, the young man never felt tired, knowing if he went to bed, his thoughts would chase each other in his mind. He would never fall asleep, so it seemed pointless to lie down.   
  
The day progressed slowly with nothing for Qui-Gon to do while passing time. For a while, he had watched some of the classes in the arena, as padawans fought to improve their sparring skills or younger groups learn their katas. After a while, the exercise had become tedious and repetitive. Despite the morning's revelation, Qui-Gon felt himself slipping into a melancholy. He was still alone. His understanding did little to fill the empty space within his life that once had held a person.   
  
He left the arena to continue wandering aimlessly only to end up on the bench in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where Yoda had talked to him a few days earlier. He spread his full length onto the bench, staring up at the faux sapphire sky. The system set up by the Jedi seemed a bit narcissistic. The master chose to take on a student because he wanted one and felt capable of providing what the padawan needed. The padawans clamored for a master because they didn't want to be passed over and sent somewhere else. Were the padawans really well paired, though? Of course the Council surveyed the choices, making suggestions where they saw fit, but the Council wasn't infallible. Whether or not they had known when Riley made his choice about Qui-Gon, the whole affair seemed to have backfired. Somewhere deep in his heart, he had the sad realization that he would probably always tend towards isolation. Something intrinsic within him had been betrayed when his master died. It would take much time for it to be repaired, if it ever recovered.   
  
It seemed a depressing fate to come to, always keeping others at arm's distance. Could he really trust anyone completely? He'd never had close intimate friends like other padawans. When he was younger, he was immersed in his classes, the boy who remained after hours to practice his katas to perfection or work on that difficult assignment from a class. He had acquaintances, but no one to really care about, perhaps to truly love, except for his master.   
  
And he was gone. The emptiness wrapped Qui-Gon in its grasp, and he could feel it pulling him down. Despair held him for a moment, wrenching him away from his precious order, the people he wanted to help – could that be true? How could he help people he didn't become close to for fear of pain? – yanking him from the truths his master had taught him, the understandings of the Force, the belief that there was a point to what he was trying to accomplish. What was all of this, except reaching for something he couldn't grasp? He been here a thousand times, walking this path in expectation and despair, crying out one last time not to be left alone, for Riley not to be taken away. And still he was here alone, his cries unheard.   
  
Love was no victory march. It was the dead of night when Riley was in pain, the enduring of the ineffective treatments, the watching of a large man waning to a feeble one, and the final release of a great spirit who couldn't fight any more. Although he knew his master wouldn't want it this way, Qui-Gon was struggling with that fact. He was now expected to fight against something he didn't understand, perhaps couldn't even win against. Why? 


	10. In Weakness

_In Weakness_   
  
"Qui-Gon?" the soft alto voice pervaded his thoughts, dragging him up from the depths of his mind and oppressive loneliness. He rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. Aislinn knelt beside the bench, her gray eyes clouded in concern. The older padawan realized she was watching him in concern. "Where were you?" she asked quietly. "I've been sitting here for a long time, trying to get your attention. I don't think you were meditating."   
  
He shook his head. "I wasn't," he replied flatly, then turned his head back to look at the sky. "I was thinking, I guess."   
  
"About Master Giovan," she replied, not really asking.   
  
"Yes and no," he replied with a shrug. Qui-Gon sat up to study the girl who sat before him. She watched him, gray eyes unblinking, as though trying to see through the very depths of his soul. Her gaze made him feel uncomfortable, like she was going to be able to see right through him, hear his un-Jedi-like thoughts and feel his flaws. He was not the strong, confident, easy-going padawan any more. Qui-Gon didn't know what he was, but he knew he wasn't the same. Many things were just a front now, as he sifted through his pain and found a new beginning, somewhere to start again. A part of him would always be stuck here, never to grow up and learn from his master as he had. He was hiding, and he knew it. He was afraid that she, that anyone, would see him as he was, a person with limitations.   
  
"You are stronger than you think. We both are, I believe," Aislinn said quietly, still watching his face. Qui-Gon wondered what she saw before she had said that, what had passed over his face as a multitude of thoughts and perceptions passed over his heart. "'For it is only in weakness that strength is revealed.' My master used to tell me that, though I don't think I understood him at the time. But bravery means nothing if there is nothing to fear."   
  
Qui-Gon shook his head slightly and stood, turning his back to her as he stepped over the bench. He heard the grass rustled and could sense her as she stood, but he didn't pause. Being alone was difficult, but sometimes being with someone who understood, perhaps a little too well, was even more impossible to bear.   
  
* * *   
  
"Chosen to be alone again, have you?" the diminutive Jedi asked, his green ears twitching thoughtfully. Qui-Gon glared down at him, not caring a bit whether or not the Council member noticed his annoyance.   
  
"I wish to be alone," he replied. He was standing on one of the glass bands that wrapped around the spires of the Jedi Temple giving an unadulterated view of Coruscant. The sun was bleeding red across the sky as it set, reflecting off the buildings. However, he could only see the reflections of the deep red on buildings, facing east towards the impending grayness. Qui-Gon didn't bother to turn around and fully address Yoda.   
  
"Noticed, I have. Care, I do not," he replied, flashing some of his own displeasure. "Concerned, Aislinn is. Asked me to find you, she did. Afraid for you, she is." He moved to stand next to Qui-Gon, addressing the taller man's side since he still didn't turn from the view beyond the glass.   
  
The padawan snorted derisively. "Has she run out of people to yell at so quickly?" he queried. Yoda frowned, tapping Qui-Gon's knees with his walking stick.   
  
"Your side, I do not appreciate talking to. Suffice not will your kneecaps." With a sigh, the taller man turned to face Yoda, kneeling onto one knee, now on the same level as the older Jedi. "Fair, that is not. Rightfully concerned, I think she is. Hiding in loneliness, you are. Afraid to be hurt again." Yoda frowned, peering at Qui-Gon. Then, a thoughtful look crossed his face and he closed his eyes, murmuring to himself for a moment.   
  
"Fair." He paused, frowning slightly and resisting the urge to turn back to the sight of Coruscant. "It's been three days since my master died!" Qui-Gon replied. "Why is it assumed that I would immediately be all right?"   
  
"All right you act," Yoda countered, his eyes still closed, "but all right you are not. If pretend nothing is wrong you do, then perhaps so it will be. But doubtful. Foresee a day, I do, when a padawan will reach for you, but be there for him you will not. That is, if this lesson you do not learn now."   
  
"Perhaps I will choose not to take one," Qui-Gon replied stiffly.   
  
"To die alone, do you wish? Easy enough it is to be alone, if one chooses to be afraid! Stand alone forever, will you? Rebellious you were before, but foolish I thought you were not." He snorted, his normally even voice rising in frustration. "Battle this always, you will, to trust or to reject. Walk alone, you cannot forever. Friends you have even now, if to accept them you choose. Friend of yours, I am, if allow me you will. Aislinn as well. Always choose wisely. A second chance you may not receive."   
  
Qui-Gon shook his head in frustration, and he was about to reply to the small Council member when Yoda held up a hand to silence him. "Justify yourself to me, you will not. Decide you must here" he tapped Qui-Gon on the head, "and more importantly here," he tapped him on the chest.   
  
"I don't understand what is expected of me," Qui-Gon finally replied after being appraised for a long time by Master Yoda.   
  
The diminutive master smiled knowingly. "The second line of the Jedi Oath, do you know?"   
  
"'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.'" Qui-Gon replied, intoning the line softly as he pondered the words.   
  
"And the first? The third?"   
  
"'There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.'" Qui-Gon frowned, realizing where Yoda was going with this line of thought. "And the last, 'There is no death, there is the Force.' But it doesn't feel that way, Master Yoda. I have been taught not to deny my feelings."   
  
Yoda's ears twitched, and he gave the padawan in front of him a piercing look. What little emotion his face betrayed only indicated concern and disquiet. "Expressing your feelings, are you? Or denying them?" He shook his head slowly and turned away, his gimmer stick clicking on the tiles, echoing in the large room.   
  
Qui-Gon glared at his back, not caring that he was being disrespectful to the master. He couldn't come up with a reasonable response to the small Jedi, so instead he just watched him go. Before leaving the room, Yoda turned, a frown upon his face. Qui-Gon looked at him levelly, feeling a bit of mutiny rise within him. "Conquer this, you will," Yoda said, his voice warning in tone, "or a padawan I see passed over, and a mistake made that can't be reversed." 


	11. A Better Day

_A Better Day_   
  
_There is no emotion, there is peace.   
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.   
There is no passion, there is serenity.   
There is no death, there is the Force._   
  
The words tumbled over and over in Qui-Gon's head. Dusk had long since fallen, and he hadn't moved from the spot in the large glass floor. He had settled onto the tile, leaning against the window and staring into the middle of the room at nothing. Shadows stretched across the circular pattern on the ground, chasing each other quickly or slowly as ships beyond the Temple eased their ways through the night skies. Damp paths marked his strong features, and even now his eyes glittered in the darkness from unshed tears.   
  
Soft footsteps echoed in the room, though Qui-Gon took little notice. He was absorbed in the Force, delving within himself to that most sensitive place, trying to bring it to the surface, to release it into the Force. He wanted to be a Jedi, stoic and unfeeling, but he didn't know how. Nothing seemed to work; he didn't have peace, he didn't have serenity, he didn't have knowledge. Death was still very real. His emotions were still very strong.   
  
He became aware of someone sitting next to him. Aislinn watched him quietly, wrapped in her cloak for warmth, the lights from the outside illuminating parts of her face, casting unsettling shadows across her features. "Yoda told me you would be here," she said softly when he glanced at her, almost questioningly. "He seemed concerned for you."   
  
"He thinks I try to keep myself apart, that I'm afraid I'll be hurt again if I become close to someone else. He also suggested that I've just been denying my pain, pretending it doesn't exist, in hopes that it will go away." Qui-Gon felt apathetic. It seemed that he had hurt for so long, fighting for so long, that he couldn't remember why, or against what.   
  
"Have you?" The question seemed innocent enough, but Qui-Gon knew that she was thinking quietly, assessing everything he said and carefully filing it away to make an understanding of him. They were taught to do so, to take each instant to create a more complete picture of those around them. The hesitations, the vocal inflections, the way answers were worded; all was a method of reaching people and accomplishing what should be done, what was the will of the Force.   
  
"I can't spend my life grieving," he replied finally, sifting through his emotions to find an acceptable answer for her. For himself. He took a deep breath, trying to fight the tears that threatened to resurface.   
  
"You can't enjoy your life if you spend all of it denying that grief," Aislinn replied gently. Qui-Gon shook his head sadly, his mouth turned down in an attempt to quell the tears. He had neither the words nor the strength to say them. They sat in silence for a while, tears sliding unbidden and unwanted on his face.   
  
Aislinn reached out and brushed some of the dampness from his cheek, her hand cool against his warm skin. She watched, her own face mirroring his grief, though hers more for his pain. The younger padawan opened her arms, and Qui-Gon, feeling very young and foolish, crawled into them, burying his head on her shoulder and shaking from his sobs. He wrapped his own arms around her, enjoying the warmth and comfort of having someone near, anyone near. He had missed the companionship of his master, the mere enjoyment of having an emotional support, a friend, nearby. He didn't know if he trusted Aislinn, but she was there now and was willing to accept him at his lowest point. That meant much to him.   
  
"Why?" he finally asked her through his tears, his head still hidden by her shoulder.   
  
"I don't know, Qui-Gon," Aislinn replied, gently rubbing his back to soothe him, stroking his hair. "We all have our own paths, and the Force guides us to what is best. Perhaps this is preparation for something greater to come. You may need strength for a much more difficult path, and this is the only way to find it. You may need the insight of a padawan who's known grief and adversity. You may need to make your way across brambly roads that no one else had trodden, that no one else can take."   
  
He continued to cry softly, clinging to her soft robe. The entire process was painfully silent, the ache of a broken heart trying to mend its tatters back together. Aislinn began to hum softly to him, trying to soothe him from his desperation, even though she knew it wouldn't take just an evening or one bout of tears. Her humming took on a tune, and then, she was singing softly to him, "Can you feel the hearts of the children? Aching for home, for something of their very own. Reaching hands with nothing to hold on to but hope for a better day, a better day. Crying someone, help me to feel the love again in my own land. But if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving arms, 'way from harm."   
  
Her voice faded, swallowed into the silence of the room. Qui-Gon cried on, oblivious to the world around him. Soon, even his sobs began to slow, dimming to the occasional shudder. He was curled across her lap, head on her shoulder, arms around her, tears on his eyelashes. Soon his breathing became deep and even as he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.   
  
_(Author's note: The song that Aislinn sings is called _Prayer of the Children_, with the words and tune by Kurt Bestor.)_


	12. Waves of the Force

_Waves of the Force_   
  
Qui-Gon sat up, a cold sweat covering his body. He looked around, disoriented to find himself back in his room, entangled in the blankets on his bed. The padawan struggled to free himself, sliding off the bed with a crash. The pain that shot through his shoulder calmed him, bringing him back to where he was.   
  
The dream had been aberrant. He was in a large area, a labyrinth of platforms running between levels of what might have been a reactor of some kind. He was fighting something, something purely evil, and there was another man with him, someone he admired very much. He wasn't sure if he was the master or the padawan, although it didn't seem to matter any more.   
  
The evil thing fought well, and he was besting Qui-Gon. He felt he couldn't fight any more, but he continued to push. He couldn't cease to fight. He had to win, or, if nothing else, the evil one had to be killed.   
  
Then, the world seemed to stop. He was hit, run through on a saber – or was it the other man? The other man, the one fighting with him, cried out as though he were the wounded one, and Qui-Gon fell. The pain was agonizing, though he couldn't say whether it was emotional or physical. Then, he had awoken in his bed.   
  
Qui-Gon kicked away the blankets, laying his cheek against the cool wood floor. He was overheated, and heat seemed to radiate from his body. He closed his eyes, reaching for his connection to the Force. The Jedi found his link, using it to anchor himself back into reality. It pulsated beneath the thrum of his own consciousness comfortingly.   
  
_There is no death, there is the Force._ Qui-Gon probed farther beyond his usual restraints, pressing beyond his comfort zone within the Living Force. He found the larger entity, something all encompassing and all understanding that he wasn't accustomed to perceiving. There, he could sense the memories and perceptions of all the creatures that had existed before him, the things that had linked them the Force. The Living Force was like a dimmer reflection of this tide of information, only that of what existed in the here and now. It also was more constant, as unwavering as the Living Force was ever changing.   
  
_If there is no death, then Riley's essence is here somewhere,_ Qui-Gon decided, delving farther in. He could feel the connection to his physical self lessening, being pulled taunt as he moved away. It was one of the dangers of deep meditation; to go too far was to run the risk of never being able to return. However, Qui-Gon was far from that point.   
  
He drifted through, experiencing a thousand different thoughts and memories, snippets of worlds and lives that no longer existed, or perhaps existed far from Qui-Gon's world. Nothing was familiar, though all was interesting. The experience of countless lifetimes existed here, all for the taking if one could understand it. This was part of what the Council was dedicated to discovering; the patterns within the waves of the Force.   
  
* * *   
  
Time passed, and Qui-Gon became frustrated and tired. He had no idea how long he had been this deeply taken in, only to have found nothing. He began to withdraw, when it came upon him. As the other memories had pervaded, this one seemed to swarm his senses, making him see what had been viewed, hearing, smelling, and to a lesser degree, feeling what the person had felt who really experienced this.   
  
The view before him was a younger version of himself; shorter, lanky, and thing. His brown hair was a short mop, normally unmanageable. His younger self darted through the small gathering of people, then Qui-Gon noticed he was at the edge of the mats in the arena used for the sparring competitions. There was a surge of pride, not his own, within him.   
  
Qui-Gon watched the fateful match between him and another padawan, a boy whose name had long since been forgotten. He could remember now, seeing something he remembered parts intimately well. His name was Dane Na'Belm. They both fought well, although Qui-Gon won the match. Another burst of gratification came from the memory, and then a bit of nervousness. Qui-Gon was absorbed into the memory, hearing the thoughts of the person he was existing within for the moment.   
  
_"Qui-Gon Jinn, will you be my padawan?" The boy turned, a look of surprise and awe across his features melting into a self-conscious smile. A smile creased my face at him, though I still felt a little nervous. I had trained three padawans successfully, and they were yet to know the flutter of uncertainty that filled a master as well as the padawan. "I would be honored if you would have me as your master." He pulled of his tunic, damp from the impressive spar he'd just fought. The poor boy seemed surprised that anyone would want to take him on, not aware of his own abilities.   
  
"I would love to be your padawan," the boy replied. His chest still heaved from the exertions of the day. He looked shy all of a sudden. I was curious at this, given his seeming self-confidence. His face took on a reflective look. "I have a question, though, Master Giovan."   
  
I watched as he pulled on the clean tunic, self-consciously wiping away sweat from his face. "I will try to answer it for you, Qui-Gon, though I can't promise I can." The boy had dark brown hair and intelligent gray-blue eyes that were currently shining as bright as his lightsaber blade. There would be many questions, and I knew that I couldn't answer them all, especially the most important ones.   
  
"Why did you pick me? There are many others who are older than I am."   
  
"I picked you because the Force seems to be leading me in that direction. You are intelligent and graceful, Qui-Gon, an excellent fighter for your age. That is a good thing for our pairing, since sparring has never been my strong suit. There is little you need to learn and little I could teach you about that. However, you are impulsive and strong-willed, am I right?" I smiled slightly as he shifted nervously at that. "I know that you have broken rules when you think it is necessary. I can teach you how to use the rules to your advantage, as well as know when it is truly time to break them. I can teach you how to trust another being when you need to and learn from you mistakes. I can also teach you how to lose gracefully. Sometimes when you lose, padawan, you win." I winked broadly at Qui-Gon. "You will go far, my padawan, and train a great man to be a Jedi Master, if you learn what I will teach you. You are intelligent and brave, Qui-Gon Jinn." I wondered if what I said really had any meaning, or if I was just trying to comfort the padawan. My padawan. But they rang true, the Force showing what was possible. It would be a good partnership, Qui-Gon and me. A wash of pleasure came over me.   
  
May he never forget my pride in him for who he is and what he becomes. He will be a great Jedi someday, and I will always be here to see that, somehow. _


	13. Return of Hope

_Return of Hope_   
  
"You look better."   
  
Qui-Gon glanced up at the voice, grinning impishly at the girl before him. Aislinn smiled hesitantly, obviously looking a little uncomfortable. He gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs at the small table he occupied in the Archives, pushing away some of the tomes and the datapads on the table. "That's good to hear, though I didn't know I ever looked badly," he replied a little dryly, although his eyes danced in amusement.   
  
"Perhaps not looked," Aislinn amended with a shrug. "But there's a difference."   
  
He nodded slowly, digesting that information. After a moment, his face took on a curious look, and he asked, "Why did you send Master Yoda to look for me?" He stopped, not waiting to ask the next question in his mind. _Why did she even care?_ Yoda's words had hit home. He was trying not to keep people at arm's length.   
  
Aislinn shifted uncomfortably in her chair, studying her hands for a moment before turning her gray eyes upon him. "I thought about what you said. About hope. You were right, that I had the opportunity to see him again. The fear was overwhelming me, and I let it. But now I see that there is a reason to this, just as there is a reason for what's happened to you. I have to let it make me stronger by yielding and learning. By remaining unbending, I'd be destroyed. When you walked away in the Room of a Thousand Waterfalls, I was afraid that you would do something rash. You were quieter and unreceptive. I consider you a friend, if a new one, and I didn't want you to come to further harm." She shrugged without looking apologetic.   
  
"I understand," he replied, smiling slightly for a moment. "I suppose I should be grateful."   
  
Aislinn gave him a wry look in return. "I suppose that's as much of a thank you I'm going to get from you, isn't it," she retorted amiably. The padawan leaned back more comfortably in her chair, giving a sweeping glance to the pile of data cards on the table. "What is all this? Studying for exams?"   
  
"I don't have to take them," Qui-Gon answered. "My teachers gave the Council such a glowing report that in the stress of my situation it was deemed unneeded. This is information on Ieve. You really made me understand as well. The memory of my master will always be in the Force and within myself. What I do after his death is the proof of whether I have learned anything during my training. He had faith in me, so now I must have faith in myself. And I think I have learned and can trust myself, at least more. I then waited to find out more about your situation. Perhaps return the favor."   
  
An odd look passed over Aislinn's face. "Thank you for your concern, Qui-Gon, but it's misplaced as of now. Master Yoda contacted me earlier this morning. He's coming home soon. The rebels released him on some terms with the other side. They are going to examine him and then send him home. My master is coming home." Hope shone across her face at this thought, and Qui-Gon leaned over and gave her a strong hug.   
  
"That's wonderful news," he told her sincerely. When he pulled away, tears of joy clouded her gray eyes.   
  
"I can hardly believe it. I don't know when he'll be back, but he will. It will be all right in the end." Aislinn smiled again, and Qui-Gon returned the look, although he couldn't help thinking that it might not be all right in the end. However, it was all right now, and that was enough. 


	14. Retreat

_Retreat_   
  
"Come on, you can attack harder than that!" Qui-Gon advanced on Aislinn, brandishing his saber with a flourish. She was standing a short distance away, in a defensive position. A faint smile was on her face, an expression of confidence and determination, though not necessarily arrogance. They had been sparring during the evenings for a few days now, both needing to expend pent-up stress. Qui-Gon had experienced a great release all day. Although the grief was still there, it wasn't as oppressive as it had been. Perhaps Yoda had been right. Maybe he had just been denying his pain in an attempt to be a better Jedi.   
  
"I can't beat you by sheer skill," Aislinn replied lightly, focusing on his advance. "You have a reputation for your talent in saber work. I'll have to find another way." Qui-Gon lashed out towards her, trying to lick her shoulder with the tip of his saber. With a grin, she parried the shot and made her own advance towards his side, which he easily countered.   
  
Qui-Gon shook his head in disbelief, trying to find an opening on her right side, her non-saber hand side. "I'm no better than any other Jedi my age," he replied humbly. Aislinn continued to block the hits he attempted. Then she flipped over his head, dropping into a crouch when she landed and making for a strike on his calves. She scored a burn on his right calf, but he had stepped out of the way with a quiet curse before her follow-through.   
  
He made a low sweep, coaxing her out of her defensive crouch. Aislinn jumped low, earning her own burn on her shin as he brought the saber out of the sweep. She made a quick spin, scoring a hit on his arm. However, Qui-Gon returned the favor, faking a hit and marking her. "No better!" she snorted. "You are the best fighter this Temple has seen in well over a decade of standard years, and you haven't even grown into your full potential! Didn't you ever listen to your saber instructor?"   
  
"He never said such high praise of me in my presence. Preserving my modesty, I suppose," Qui-Gon replied. He advanced again, pushing her off the practice mat. She scowled, side-stepping to get around him. They continued the spar, Aislinn meeting Qui-Gon's strength with a swiftness he couldn't match. The pair fought rather evenly, bringing out each other's weaknesses and looking for the advantage. It was rather hard to find for either.   
  
Yoda stepped into the arena, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Behind him followed an older man, perhaps fifty, with muted red hair. He was a little gaunt, looking worn and tired, but content. A short red beard outlined his strong features, as well as framing brilliant blue eyes that were edged with haggardness. Yoda indicated for him to remain silent, and they watched the interaction with curiosity. The shorter master nodded with satisfaction as the taller's eyes twinkled in amusement at the banter between Aislinn and Qui-Gon.   
  
"You can't retreat forever," Qui-Gon said with a grin, chasing her leisurely across the mat as she backed away. He gathered strength and jumped in the air, performing a tight somersault before landing in front of her, slashing at her tunic. Aislinn was taken off guard and took the slash gamely, blocking his next attempt for a hit.   
  
They battled on in silence for a while, Qui-Gon catching sight of the two newly arrived Jedi, although he had no time to indicate he had seen them except for a quick nod of the head. Aislinn didn't notice that movement at all, too caught up in one of his more impatient flurries of blows. She parried them, managing to make her own strike across his belly before she flipped over his head. When she landed, she caught sight of the two Jedi in the entrance of the arena. Completely astonished, she froze, staring at them. Qui-Gon turned with a jab to the neck, a feeble attempt at a kill point since he was expecting her to leap back. Instead, he dealt her a harsh blow across the jaw, the momentum of his hand too much to divert at the last moment. He managed to deactivate his saber, but the hilt still connected solidly.   
  
Aislinn's gaze never flickered to Qui-Gon. She dropped her saber hilt, deactivated, and took a few halting steps towards them. Then, Aislinn ran over, flinging herself into the red-haired man's arms, crying over and over again, "Master, you're home!" Tears covered her cheeks as she buried her head into his shoulder, hugging him tightly.   
  
Qui-Gon felt oddly out of place. He was indescribably happy for Aislinn. Her master was home safe. He was there for her again. He turned to watch the joyous two-person homecoming, a lump rising in his throat. The dull ache returned, though not nearly as strongly as it had before. Qui-Gon realized that Yoda was right. It would be something he would fight his entire life, the pervasive loneliness caused by not having what others did. But he had his memories. It may not be all right now, but it would be. Qui-Gon had faith. He just had to be patient, working through it and talking with others. He couldn't hide behind his past.   
  
The realization hit Qui-Gon as hard as he must have hit Aislinn. The Oath wasn't designed to confine Jedi, but to release them from the confines of themselves. He could feel grief and pain and anger, but he couldn't let it control him. He could experience things as a human, but he had to remain objective about the emotions, knowing when they were jading his point of view. The Living Force had led him to Aislinn to teach him this, even though they had both resisted, and she had probably had something to learn from him. He would always miss his master, but within him, as part of himself and his training, he could keep the spirit of Riley alive, manifest the essence that had become one with Force when he had passed on. He was still there, in the Force. It was just knowing how to reach him. 


	15. Epilogue: A Difficult Road

_A Difficult Road_   
  
The chamber was silent as a small group of Jedi stood around the fringes of the room. Qui-Gon stood in the middle of the group, wearing nothing but the traditional white padawan tunics and robes, covered by the dark brown outer robe. His belt was empty of its usual materials, only his lightsaber clipped to it. Three Council members stood before him, Riven, Re'naid, and Yoda. Behind him and to his left, Qui-Gon could see Aislinn out of the corner of his eye, smiling quietly. Her master stood a short distance away, looking proud.   
  
"Padawan learner Qui-Gon Jinn, please step forward." Riven's deep voice rumbled through the room like distance thunder. Qui-Gon focused on him, doing as he bid. He had passed his trials the day before, earning a night's respite before the ceremony. The memories of that were locked within his mind and heart, things he wouldn't be able to speak of to any other because of their intimacy. That was his.   
  
"Please kneel." Qui-Gon did so as Re'naid stepped forward. She smiled down at him for a moment before addressing the small crowd.   
  
"This padawan has achieved all that is required of him. He has learned discipline and courage, as well as patience and intelligence. He is physically able to defend himself and many others. Qui-Gon is mentally capable of dealing fairly with other people and following the direction of the Council. He is spiritually capable of finding guidance and balance within the Force. Qui-Gon, do you choose to accept the path as a Knight of the Jedi Order, to complete the things asked of you by your fellow Jedi to the best of your abilities and cognition, to live a life worthy of the decision you are making?"   
  
"I do," he replied solemnly. She nodded once, a smile glinting in her eyes. The female Council member stepped back.   
  
"What is the code you will follow?" Riven rumbled.   
  
"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force."   
  
Yoda came to take Qui-Gon's place, taking the sword that Riven drew from a scabbard hanging from his waist. The diminutive Jedi looked respectfully at the padawan for a long moment, as if trying to impress his years of knowledge into the boy in that moment. The blade glinted in the artificial light of the room, its metal edge honed to a keen point. He laid the razor edge alongside Qui-Gon's neck. "A hard life this is," Yoda said quietly, only to Qui-Gon. "A long journey on a difficult road. But honor there is. May find always you the path you seek." His voice rose so that the entire chamber could hear him. "Knight thee, I do, in the name of the Jedi Order whose ranks have served for peace and justice throughout the galaxy." He tapped both of Qui-Gon's shoulders even as the padawan's head was still bent reverently to the floor.   
  
Yoda tugged gently at his braid, drawing up his face to look at his own green visage. A rare smile creeped over his face. Yoda drew the sword up to the hair and sheered the braid off, leaving a clean cut lock little longer than the rest of his hair. He handed the blade back to Riven and gave Qui-Gon a hug.   
  
"I welcome you as a Jedi Knight into the Order." 


End file.
